


I'll Be There

by citruxine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bestiality, Degradation, Knotting, Large Insertion, M/M, Oviposition, PWP, Rough Sex, Sylvain gets cucked by a wyvern, dead dove do not eat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citruxine/pseuds/citruxine
Summary: Felix, Sylvain, and a wyvern, twice over. Proceed with caution.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	1. Side A

**Author's Note:**

> Two variations on a theme, both highly questionable. Unfortunately neither piece has a proper conclusion because I got bored, but maybe what I do have will be enjoyable!
> 
> Content notes:  
> Some non-con is referenced in narration/dirty talk, but does not occur. The wyverns are depicted as non-sapient animals. Actual egg-laying does not occur, sorry, only the aftermath. Felix is very mean to Sylvain. Sylvain is not very mean to Felix. They are in love, I think!

“Do you need a hand with the, uh.” Sylvain gestures, nervous, in a direction vague enough to not be Felix’s ass.

“With _what,”_ Felix says nastily. “I’m shocked there’s any carnal act a philanderer like you can’t find it within himself to _name._ ”

“Preparations,” Sylvain manages, in lieu of saying, _I’ve never had to name them with the intention of doing them to_ you.

Felix pauses, then flushes violently. The wyvern in the stall snuffles and shifts its massive tail.

Several terrible seconds pass before Sylvain blurts, “you _did_ bring oil or something, didn’t you? You weren’t planning to just lie back and think of Faerghus?”

“Shut up,” Felix snarls, “of course I brought oil, I just –” he makes a face. “Haven’t. Umm.”

Sylvain feels himself go through several stages of grief and arousal concurrently. “Have you fingered yourself before?”

Felix does not answer.

Sylvain says, “all right,” and gets up out of the hay. He approaches with some care, aware that he’s in a small wooden room with two very volatile and potentially dangerous creatures, but rapidly becoming more and more convinced that this isn’t really happening, so none of the consequences could be real.

He coaxes off Felix’s boots, pants and drawers. He restrains himself from coaxing off Felix’s shirt and hair-tie in the spirit of prioritization. 

“Come on, come on,” he murmurs, trying to focus as he encourages Felix to his hands and knees. Felix’s legs are so long and so pale. He never gets to see them anymore. He looks, feels guilty for looking, and continues to look. “I’ve got you – give me the oil. Okay, come on.”

He wishes they were in a bed, or at least a hallway; he wishes there was more light than the sconce outside the barn door; he wishes he could have kissed that flush onto Felix’s face, drawn it down over his collarbones with his open mouth; but Felix, apparently, wants to be in the dirt and the hay with an unimpressed and impatient wyvern staring down at them, so Sylvain’s hands do not shake as he tips oil over his fingers, over Felix’s ass.

“All right, let’s get you ready,” he babbles. He’s well-practiced at this. All those boys from the village had paid off, in their own way. Felix is so hot and soft inside.

“Would you do it without speaking,” Felix shoots over his shoulder, his breath coming more quickly than before. Sylvain pauses as he slips in a second finger.

“Felix, sweetheart, I’ve got my hand up your ass and I’m about to watch you get spitted on a wyvern’s cock,” he drawls, “I think I’ll do this part however I like.”

He speeds up while Felix is recovering from his indignant shock, and by the time Felix is ready to retort, he no longer can, too busy trying to stay upright as Sylvain fingers him, three digits pumping in and out, teasing where he’s most sensitive. This part is supposed to be perfunctory, but Sylvain can’t help himself, probing down to try and find Felix’s prostate, a little giddy and a lot spiteful; he wants to make Felix moan before an Almyran animal has the chance to.

Felix is panting softly now, turning his head into his shoulder to try and muffle his noises. His hips are shaking a little, his cock half-hard. Sylvain slips in a fourth finger, fucks Felix til he’s trembling before he pulls back, leaves Felix panting in the straw as he turns to the wyvern.

It follows him easily enough, prodding curiously at Felix’s body, cock already hanging out from its sheath. It’s hot to the touch as Sylvain nervously tips oil over it, then guides it forward, the animal snorting in anticipation as it touches Felix.

“All right, come on,” he murmurs, deliriously unsure of which one he’s even addressing, then the wyvern muscles forward and all he can focus on is Felix’s face as he’s speared open, his wide eyes and flushed cheeks and pink, open mouth.

The animal doesn’t bother to be gentle as it fucks Felix, but Sylvain cannot help but to be as he kneels in front of Felix, allows him to brace against him as he’s pounded. Felix’s hands clutching his shoulders, Felix’s head resting under his chin; short, sharp cries spilling out of him. He can’t count the number of hazy fantasies that have started and ended just like this. He just didn’t expect the wyvern.

Unable to stop himself, now, with Felix moaning in his lap and the wyvern over them both, he runs his hand through Felix’s hair until it comes loose from its tie, soft and dark as an ink spill. He wishes he could do away with the shirt, too; Felix is probably pink all the way down his chest.

“It’s so much,” Felix gasps, eyes fluttering, shiny with unshed tears. “It’s so, _fuck_ , so big.”

“Do you want to stop,” Sylvain mumbles into Felix’s hair. “Do you need me to--”

“N-ho, it’s, it’s good,” Felix babbles. “Hhm, _aah--”_

_“You’re_ good,” Sylvain says nonsensically, petting Felix’s hair compulsively. “Shh, shh, you’re doing so good. Is it filling you up just right, baby? Are you gonna come like this? Let me see how good you feel.”

_“Sylvain,”_ Felix sobs, his expression slack with pleasure, and the tears spill til he’s actively crying, sobbing in overwhelmed rapture as Sylvain wipes at his tears and strokes his hair and the wyvern’s pace stutters, burying the whole ruinous length of itself in as it orgasms and begins to fill Felix up.


	2. Side B

“You really are disgusting,” Felix comments, trying to affect more aloofness than he feels, sitting cross-legged in the hay as Sylvain fumbles with the oil.

“Oh, yes, hurt me more,” Sylvain mumbles sarcastically, but he doesn’t look like he’s focusing on the conversation. He’s on his knees, stripped to just his shirtsleeves with his bare thighs all on display, reaching behind himself. Preparing.

Felix catches himself craning his neck to see, and stills himself before Sylvain can notice. Sylvain can debase himself all he likes, but Felix is supposed to be above such things as straining to catch a glimpse of his best friend working his own ass open.

He wonders, though, as Sylvain hisses a little, eyes glazing, and shifts his huge shoulders, how many fingers that was. How many it would take before he’s ready. Not that he has any inclination, nor admittedly the ability to help, but the wyvern’s shoulders brush the top of Sylvain’s head, and as loathe as he is to admit it, he would be displeased if it caused any actual, lasting damage.

When Sylvain determines himself stretched enough, and turns to cluck and coo at the wyvern, Felix catches a glimpse of his hole, just barely visible between his cheeks, loose and shiny with oil. Without warning, his mouth floods with saliva.

The wyvern snuffles at Sylvain as if familiar with him, great wings rustling on its back. Sylvain, normally defined in Felix’s mind primarily by his obnoxious largeness, looks tiny under it, pale and slight and vulnerable, kneeling there in the hay in his unbuttoned shirt and bare freckled legs.

Something curls in his stomach, hot; he can’t tell if it’s disgust, anticipation, or arousal.

Sylvain presses at the beast’s belly until the cock emerges, a dark tapered shape so immediately huge that Felix finds himself readjusting his pants at the sight of it.

A rustle of movement as the wyvern starts engaging in the activities, then all of a sudden it’s happening; Sylvain braces himself against the stall door as the wyvern pushes forward, a handful of aborted thrusts missing their mark before Sylvain tilts his hips just so and the beast slides home, pushing a keening gasp out of him. His vision goes unfocused as the wyvern sets a harsh pace from the drop, pounding into him. Felix, if he shuffles a little further to the side, could probably get a good view of the entry point; Sylvain’s hard cock, his dripping hole, spread too wide and abused by the wyvern’s cock.

The wyvern is not a lover; it treats the body underneath it with only enough care to keep Sylvain in place as it fucks him. Sylvain’s moans are getting higher in pitch, a little furrow of discomfort forming between his brows. If he changes his mind now, if it overwhelms him now, there would be no escape. Sylvain, for all his obnoxious height and arm size, would be helpless.

That’s supposed to be Felix’s job. A safety net, in case Sylvain has really bitten off more than he can fuck. Felix watches him drop his head forward, leaning on the stable door, limbs shaking and sheened in sweat, and wonders how he would stop the beast if Sylvain were to turn to him and say, _no more._ If Sylvain’s soft little cries took on a pitch of pain, if the glassy look in his eyes spilled into real tears, how would Felix save him?

_Would_ Felix save him?

“You look like a whore,” he says abruptly, and watches it land on Sylvain like a blow. Sylvain twitches mightily, tilting his face toward Felix in some drooling, fucked-out semblance of surprise. His cock jerks against his belly.

“Like a cheap slut,” Felix continues. “A disgusting, wanton creature. Look at you, writhing on that animal’s cock. Is it filling you up? Rearranging your worthless organs?”

“Hahh, Felix, whu,” Sylvain manages, before cutting off with a gurgle at a particularly vicious thrust.

Felix gets up off the floor, cock so hard it almost threatens to unbalance him, and steps close enough to Sylvain to lay his hand against Sylvain’s flushed face.

“You brought me here,” he murmurs, “to witness this revolting display, in case you changed your mind. In case the beast was too much for you. But it isn’t, is it? In fact,” he slides his fingers into that obnoxious orange hair, warm with sweat, almost gentle up until he makes a fist and yanks hard. Sylvain’s head jerks to the side and he yelps.

“In fact,” Felix snarls, “I don’t think it’s _enough.”_

“Felix,” Sylvain chokes out, then his eyes roll back in his head as the beast finishes, orgasming deep in his bruised guts and flooding his belly with semen. It does not pull back.

“Wh-why is it getting bigger,” Sylvain moans, borderline delirious. “Ah, ahh --”

“Wyverns knot, you idiot,” Felix sneers. “You’re going to be hanging off that cock for another ten minutes at least.”

Sylvain loses his balance against the stall door and slides into the hay, shaking. Felix does look, now, at his ruined hole, stretched and sore around the wyvern’s knot, twitching every now and again as it milks the beast’s cock.

Felix follows Sylvain to the ground, shoves his thumb into Sylvain’s mouth, feeling the hot slickness of it, dragging his lip down to reveal teeth; jaw held open like this, Sylvain’s muffled vocalizations become more lewd, more shameless. Weakly, Sylvain tongues at him; and when he fits more fingers in, pushing roughly, sucks dutifully on the offered digits.

“Slut,” Felix remarks, undoing his pants with his other hand. “Here, since you’re insatiable.”

_**coda** : this part has mpreg_

“Ahh, Felix, please –”

“Shut up, whore,” Felix snarls, yanking Sylvain’s hair roughly. “Who was it that got himself knocked up like a stupid slut and then had to come crawling to me for help? By a wyvern, too. You imbecile. You should count yourself lucky I’m even here.”

Sylvain sniffles, teary and flushed. He’s probably cramping; a belly rub would help ease the pain. “Y-yes, I know, but –”

“But nothing. I should have thrown you to the troops to have their way with you. Bet you’d be so loose after dropping those eggs they could get through you two at a time. It’d be the only time you were ever efficient.” Felix tugs his hair again, furious.

Sylvain whimpers at the rough treatment, shifting on the bed. His dick can’t get hard, not with the birthing hormones in his system, not with his belly full of wyvern eggs, but it twitches a little on his thigh and dribbles a tiny bit of clear fluid.

Felix sneers. Only a whore like Sylvain would be getting off on this.

“Imagine it,” he advises, palming Sylvain’s flushed cheek. “I could strip you and just leave you in the training grounds. All tied up, legs spread like they always are, just waiting for anyone to have a grand old time. With your huge belly, nobody could mistake you for anything but the no-good whore you are. You wouldn’t be able to hide it. Half the troops wouldn’t even go near your filthy hole, probably, they’d just fuck your pretty face and call it a day. I wouldn’t blame them. Who would want to share a hole with a beast? Maybe I could tie you upside down. See how that works out for you.”

“Noo, please, don’t do that,” Sylvain whimpers, trying to rub his heated face against Felix’s hand. “I don’t want anyone else to see me like this, I just want to get these eggs out. Felix, c’mon.”

“You don’t want all the armies of the kingdom to have their way with you? Stuff your pretty pink mouth and your slutty ass until you’re leaking from both ends? They could fuck you right into labour, think about it.”

“Nooo, don’t want that,” Sylvain moans, tears spilling over. “Just want you.”

“Of course,” Felix sneers. Not that he could have let Sylvain out of his sight, not like this, not ever. Sylvain gives a little yelp and a twitch. Felix would protect this huge, horrible, noisy orange creature with everything he has in him, but Sylvain doesn’t need to know that.

It’s fun to tease. Gets them both hot, thinking about Sylvain getting passed around like a two-bit whore. And he deserves it for getting knocked up by a thrice-damned _wyvern_ of all things. As if Felix isn’t enough to satisfy him.

Felix shoves Sylvain onto his back roughly and strokes down his front, firm but not violent. Truthfully, his belly isn’t huge; it might almost have passed for the aftermath of a grand enough feast. Wyvern clutches are usually four eggs at most, and when unfertilized as these would be, they’re barely larger than goose eggs. Sylvain makes a muffled noise of pain and then relief as Felix works out the cramp, curling so his face is hidden affectionately in Felix’s hip.

They’re still going to be a bitch to get out. Felix can’t wait.


End file.
